We lift each other up. Make each other laugh.
I don’t feel like I have to impress him or change who I am to fit some kind of mold. I actually think he’d be offended if I tried to be anything other than myself because he does truly like who I am. Black clothes, buck teeth, introverted Josephine Atkins.
“Come on. Don’t wanna be late.” He grabs hold of the designer weekender bag he bought me last week to match his. Mine is black, while his is taupe. When he handed it to me, he shrugged, saying, “It was two for one.”
But I’m positive Tom Ford doesn’t do two-for-one deals.
Nico remains quiet on the drive to the party, located on Arch Street in Center City. He hands the keys to the valet, and we head up to the top floor of one of the many skyscrapers. The view of the skyline at this hour is amazing, and with the twenty-foot windows and soaring ceiling, I wish I had my camera.
“We’re here for fun, not work,” Nico whispers as if he can read my mind, slipping his fingers between mine to lead me to a group of players and their families. Although I am sort of acquainted with the players from being the girl behind the camera, he formally introduces me to his teammates and friends as his fiancée. I “meet” the hilariously funny Bombay, the grumpy goalie Davey and his Australian wife, the Russian winger Federov, otherwise known as Rovie, as well as his wife and children. We talk to Buss and Cubby, JP and Sheffy, who is solo.
“Where’s Naomi?” Nico asks, craning his neck for Alex Sheffield’s wife.
He checks his phone. “She hasn’t been feeling well lately.”
“She all right?”
Sheffy slips his cell phone into his pocket, clearly frustrated being here when his wife isn’t. He shrugs.
Nico lets go of my hand to step closer to Sheffy. “What’s wrong with her?”
It’s ironic how he’s so concerned for his best friend’s wife, but he won’t tell me what’s upset him today.
“She’s okay,” Sheffy assures him, placing his hand on Nico’s shoulder, a slow smile crawling across his face. “She’s…”
Nico shakes his head, not understanding, but I think I do, and I wait until Nico reads between the lines. He doesn’t.
Sheffy huffs a laugh. “She’s pregnant.”
“Dude! No way!” Nico throws his arms around his best friend, but Sheffy quickly shushes him.
“It’s still early, so we’re only telling a few people. So…”
Nico pats Sheffy’s chest. “Understood, but I’m so happy foryou.” He glances over his shoulder at me, a grin splitting his face with genuine happiness for his friend. He curls his arm around my shoulders, bringing me into the conversation. “We’re so happy for you and Naomi.”
“Yes, congratulations,” I say, leaning into Nico’s side.
Sheffy tries to hide his smile behind a hand wiping over his mouth and jaw. “Thanks. Appreciate it.” Then he motions to me. “I should say congratulations to you as well.”
“To me?”
“I was never able to say it until now.” When I quirk my brow in question, and Sheffy points to my left hand, Nico’s ring still on my fourth finger. “I told him this was a dumb fucking idea,” he says then lifts a shoulder, splitting his gaze between Nico and me. “But it doesn’t seem so dumb anymore.”
Nico laughs. “Nice.”
I don’t know much about Nico’s best friend, except that they’re practically brothers and that he has a real way with words, but I like him anyway. He’s an alternate captain for the Iron, goofy yet kind. A lot like Nico.
“You two should come over our next night off,” Sheffy suggests. “I’ll grill up some steaks.”
Nico nods. “We’ll bring dessert and some sparkling grape juice for Nomes.”
“Oh dude, you know how she’s obsessed with that Alani stuff? She can’t drink it anymore and?—”
“Hello,gentlemen.”
Sheffy stops mid-sentence and turns to Ted Fitzgerald, general manager of the Iron.
Sheffy and Nico both show him deference, shaking his hand, sudden choirboys. Fitzgerald is known in the league as a no-nonsense hard-ass, which is why Nico found himself in his position to begin with—the threat of being traded hanging over his head.
